It May Be Over (But It Won't Stop There)
by Tarafina
Summary: It is wrong. But not for the reasons she thinks. It's not wrong that he loves her, only that he tells the wrong girl those words. [Partner to: 'Cause I Saw the End]


**Title**: It May Be Over (But It Won't Stop There)  
**Category**: Vampire Diaries  
**Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Ship**: Caroline/Stefan, mentioned Stefan/Elena  
**Rating**: Mature  
**Prompt**: Can we please have a sequel to your steroline-affair fic? Perhaps from Stefan's perspective? - anon  
**Word Count**: 3,967  
**Summary**: It _is_ wrong. But not for the reasons she thinks. It's not wrong that he loves her, only that he tells the wrong girl those words.

**_It May Be Over (But It Won't Stop There)  
_**-1/1-**_  
_**

_I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile._  
_I've watched you sleeping for a while._  
_I'd be the father of your child._  
_I'd spend a lifetime with you._  
_I know your fears and you know mine._  
_We've had our doubts but now we're fine,_  
_And I love you, I swear that's true._  
_I cannot live without you._

"I love you" isn't something that should be said to a woman when the man saying it has a girlfriend that isn't her. But Stefan finds the words lingering at the tip of his tongue far too often.

Caroline is special. She laughs when she's uncomfortable, smiles so no one will notice she's sad, tries too hard too often, and puts her heart on the line even when that line is actually barbed wire. She'd been his best friend through some of the worst times of his life, she held his hand through the constant triangle debacle of him, Elena, and Damon, and she frequently saved him from giving in to his Ripper side. She was his compass rose, his guide, his home, and, at some point, the feelings he had for her grew into something more.

The first time something changes, they're dancing.

It's not born out of heartbreak or comfort, it's not an effect of too much alcohol. They're talking about the latest killer to terrorize Mystic Falls and, before the mood can sour, he asks her to dance. It's not unusual; in fact, they dance a lot more often than he has with anyone else. But there is a moment when he says something and her head falls back as she laughs, a moment where everything falls into place.

He kisses her. It's him who starts it. He finds her lips and holds her close and the world freezes for a moment, caught in time, where there is nothing but him and her, their lips slanted together. She doesn't move right away, he can feel her fingers tight around his, and then she sighs, she relaxes, and her eyes fall closed, lashes dancing against her cheeks. She leans into him and their dance stops as the music hits its crescendo. It's only when she's panting that he breaks away from her mouth and kisses down her neck, the pale slope silken under his mouth.

Their kisses are soft where their hands are not. Clothing is stripped away, a few pieces even torn in half, and before he knows it, he's sitting on the couch and she's sliding down the length of his cock, wet and tight and _perfect_. Her nails dig into his shoulders and he buries his mouth on her breast, teasing her with his lips and tongue and the length of his sharpened incisors. He can feel her shaking around him and he hugs her tight to his body, feeling every inch of her pressed to him. He kisses and bites along her shoulder as she rolls her hips against him, taking him deeper, faster. And it feels right, it feels like they've been doing this for much longer than they have.

It's only when the orgasm wears off that she's suddenly panicking and grabbing up her clothes and declaring, "This didn't happen!" and "It'll never happen again!" and "We aren't telling _anybody!_" And he's still reeling a bit, his head is spinning and body is so heavy with satisfaction, he's not even sure he can lift his head. But Caroline is freaking out and all he hears is "wrong, this is so, so wrong," and then she's gone. And he wishes he countered it with, "Not, it's right. It's really, _really _right." But he didn't, and he doesn't.

He continues life with Elena, because this was what he fought for, this was who he wanted all along. While Damon sulks and drinks himself to oblivion but can't, _won't_, leave because he still loves her and he's hoping she'll see reason. Stefan goes on being what Elena wants and telling himself she's what he wants.

But then Caroline is always there, with her sunshiny smile, pretending nothing happened and they are the same as ever. And he doesn't know why, but it bothers him. It bothers him that she can act like what happened is easily forgotten, that she can just go on like the earth didn't tip off its axis for just a little while when they were together. So when she goes to the bathroom, he makes an excuse and follows her, and just as she's leaving, he steps through the door, pushing her back inside, burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her until she grabs him by his shoulders and pins him against the wall.

While Elena is downstairs talking to Bonnie, he bends Caroline over the bathroom sink, flips her skirt up, and fucks her until his name is all she can say and think and feel.

It becomes a thing. An unspoken thing where every other night, he and Caroline are together. It doesn't seem suspicious to anyone else because they were friends long before this happened. Because she was his constant before he realized what he felt for her wasn't friendship. So while Elena is at home in the apartment she rents or hanging out with Bonnie at Mystic Grill, he and Caroline are in his bedroom.

She stays overnight. He knows it's not smart, that Elena could come by and visit at any time. But when Caroline tries to slip out of bed one night, beautiful and naked, he slips an arm around her waist and drags her back, pressing a kiss at the crook of her neck and mumbling, "Stay." She argues at first, she's logical and she knows what could happen, but then he's kissing her shoulder and his hand is rubbing her stomach and her sides, and it feels nice, so she stays and she lets him hold her.

He doesn't let himself think about how much more intimate it is to share a bed with her than it is just having sex with her. He likes the way she snores and how, sometimes, she talks in her sleep. Mostly it's commands to someone or other about the latest event she's planning in town square. He likes how her hand covers his, her fingers fitting in the spaces between his, and how soft her hair is under his cheek. In the early morning, when she's in that place between sleep and awake, he just watches her, stroking his fingers through her hair. She has freckles on her nose that she always covers with make-up, but they make her softer, more innocent, he counts them sometimes.

He knows she loves him. There are some nights where they lay together and all she does is trace the edges of his lips with her fingers, gazing at him like she wants to remember every plane of his face. Most mornings, she pretends to be sleeping so they can stay in bed and cuddle a while longer. And he laughs, because he can always tell when she's faking sleep. He's spent so much time with her, he's memorized every expression, every laugh, even the sound of her breathing, even and in sync with his when she's really asleep. And there's the way she says his name when he's inside her, a breathy whisper that hits him in the heart every time. The way she holds onto him, her nails digging into his skin, her teeth lengthening, when he's got her right there, right at the edge of climax, and she looks ready to break, like she thinks he'll disappear at any moment, fade away and leave her behind.

It _is_ wrong. But not for the reasons she thinks.

It's not wrong that he loves her, only that he tells the wrong girl those words.

It's not wrong that he's with her, only that he belongs to another.

It's not wrong that he wants her, only that he stays with somebody else.

And he knows it's wrong, he feels it every time she leaves. He feels it when he's holding Elena's hand, when she kisses him, when she promises him they'll be happy together. He feels it when Caroline is feet away and won't look in their direction because her heart is breaking and it's his fault.

The morning she leaves him, he knows it's coming, he just wishes it wasn't.

He watches her as she gets dressed. He's already been downstairs to make her the cup of tea she likes when she first wakes up. He's in his jeans and the sun is breaking through the window, the birds singing outside, reminding them that time is short and life is waiting to interrupt. He can see the weight of everything on her shoulders, a frown at her lips and her brow furrowed.

She doesn't touch her tea.

She climbs off his bed and starts dressing, not saying a thing, and he waits, because Caroline is a talker. She always has been and he knows that, whatever's on her mind, he's going to be hearing it.

Her underwear is intact, it's the first thing she finds. The first few times they slept together, he ripped them off her so completely that the only option was to throw them out. He's gentler now, taking his time. Usually, anyway. Sometimes they barely get their clothes off before he's inside her.

Her jeans are next, she shimmies into them, bouncing a little, and he smiles to himself. She finds her bra hanging off the bed post and winds it up her arms. He's behind her in a flash, swatting her hands away so he can do it. He took it off, the least he can do is put it back on.

Her skin is soft, he lets his hands linger, and his knuckles drag against her back. If it wasn't morning, he'd pull her back to bed and explore every inch with his mouth. But it is morning and, with the light, he's reminded that he has to let her go. He doesn't want to, he never does, and his hands find her hips, holding her there, close, while he presses a kiss against her head, nuzzling her hair. He rests there a while, sighing quietly.

"We can't keep doing this," she tells him.

He feels a sudden thud in his chest and his eyes open. His fingers flex on her hip, squeezing, but he can't get the words out. What is he supposed to stay? _'Yes, we can_.' It would be a lie, wouldn't it? They can't go on doing things like this. It's not fair to her or Elena.

"It's not right… what we're doing. It… It makes me feel like a bad person and I've tried really hard not to be that anymore, so—"

He hears the catch in her voice and he remembers, suddenly, the Caroline he first met, and the Caroline who tried so hard not to be like her anymore. He remembers how proud she was of herself for becoming a better, stronger person, and he hates that what they're doing, that what he's done, makes her question that.

"You're a good person, Caroline." He wraps his arm around her and hugs her against his chest, wanting to shelter her. He wants her to know that this isn't her fault; he was selfish and he wasn't thinking and he didn't consider how much it could hurt her. "This is on me. It's not you. It's—"

"You're not the only one here. You're not the only one doing this!" She grips his forearms in her hands tightly. "You're _hers_. You always will be."

He shakes his head, but she breaks away, tugging his arms loose and stepping out of his reach.

They're feet away from each but the space feels huge. She's letting him go, he realizes. This isn't 'convince me we're doing the right thing' or 'we can go back to being friends,' this is 'goodbye.' And he feels it like a gaping stab wound.

She finds her shirt and pulls it on, avoiding eye contact as she tucks her hair behind her ears, slips her feet into her flats, and starts for the door. "I'm not going to be around for a while. I think I'll get out of town for a bit..."

Panic clogs his throat and all he can think is that if she walks out the door, he's not going to see her again.

"Can you tell Elena? Just— Tell her I need to be on my own, so I'm not going to answer my phone for a while. I don't want her to worry."

His hands are shaking and his gut is twisted up. His voice is wrecked as he chokes out her name, "Caroline…"

She pauses near the door. "We were stupid. We made a mistake… A— A really dumb mistake." She turns to face him and he's never more ashamed of himself than when he sees the tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "You belong with her. And I…"

The smile she gives him is forced and trembling and he shakes his head because he hates it. He hates that she's pretending with him. She's never had to before and he wishes she didn't now.

She shrugs. "I'll survive." Her breath hitches.

He drops his eyes, guilt eating away at him, and he realizes his name was just added to the long list of men who broke her heart. Before, he was the one name on a shortlist who loved and never hurt her. He drags a hand over his face as his eyes burn and drags a fist over his mouth as his chin shakes.

She's gone when he looks up; the doorway is empty, his bed is empty, and he, himself, is emptier than he's ever been.

He's never said the words, he doesn't even let himself think them very often, but he's loved Caroline for a lot longer than the time they've been together. He loved her as far back as when she was his blood sponsor, when Elena chose Damon, when he asked her how he was ever supposed to move on. He's loved her for years. And even though this all started out wrong, even though he's betraying Elena, he's been happier with Caroline than he has ever been.

She's reaching for the front door when he gets to her. He slams the door before she can open it completely, and he buries a hand in her hair, gripping it tight, winding it around his fingers as he holds her by the nape of her neck and turns her to face him. He's shaking when he pulls her toward him and presses his face against her neck. And he's begging when he tells her, "Don't go. _Please_."

She doesn't answer right away and she doesn't hug him, she doesn't soothingly stroke her hands through his hair and she doesn't kiss him. "Stefan..." He feels her hand on his, her thumb stroking over his knuckles until he relaxes, hope surging through him. She tugs his wrist free and murmurs, "You have to stop."

He shakes his head and raises it, stares her in the eyes, his own glossy. "It was me. I was an idiot. I— I should've ended things with her. I should've said something when this started. I was scared. I was stupid. Elena is— She's familiar. I— I've been fighting for her for so long that it's hard to imagine not having her. It's hard to let go."

It's true and he knows it. He should have broken up with her a long time ago, he should've realized that she really does belong with Damon. Maybe part of it was the long-time rivalry they've had. Having finally won her and beaten his brother, he was ashamed to say he no longer wanted to be with her. After fighting so hard, doing all that he had, coming out the victor... Letting her go seemed like the wrong thing to do. But now, faced with the reality of staying with Elena when he's in love with Caroline, he realizes how selfish that was, how _stupid _it was.

He cups her face, strokes her cheek, and wipes away the tear that falls. "But I don't love her, Caroline. I'm not _in love_ with her anymore."

She shakes her head. "_Don't_."

"I screwed this up. I shouldn't've done it this way." He strokes her hair back from her face and cups her cheeks. "I'll tell her. I'll break up with her. I should've done it before. Just.. Please, don't leave." His lips tremble as he inhales sharply. "Even if you don't want to be with me, I— I need you in my life. You're my best friend. You— You're _everything_."

He's not sure he can stand losing her, not in any capacity. She's been the best part of his life for so long that not having her at all would feel worse than losing a limb. And he tells himself that he'll understand if she can't be with him, if she needs time to sort out how she feels. He can wait. He can wait for her to trust him again. But he needs her here for that. He can't convince her that she's all he wants if she won't even be there for him to show her.

Because he sees it now, he sees his future, and she's in it. He doesn't know where Elena or Damon will be in fifty or a hundred years, but he can see himself with Caroline. He can see them laughing and dancing, he can imagine himself holding her, kissing her, cuddling her close in the morning when she's not ready to leave bed, he can see himself making her favorite tea and stroking her hair and falling asleep each night with her in his arms. And he wants that. He wants all of that.

This has to end. This part of them. The lying and the betrayal and sneaking around. But a new part, a better part, can start. He wants that for them and he's willing to do whatever it takes for them to have that.

Her hand touches his chest, over the heart that no longer beats, and it lingers for just a moment, until she pushes him. He feels it like a stake, sliding through skin and bone and vital organ. Her fingers curl against him, but her hand is steady, holding him at a distance.

Her voice trembles, but she still manages to say, "Goodbye, Stefan."

He breaks, his eyes closing, tears spilling, and he feels the whoosh of air as she leaves, the loss of her hand against that spot on his chest.

He's angry at first. At himself more than anything. When he turns, he grabs the first thing he sees, a table lamp, and he throws it until it hits a wall and shatters. And then he keeps breaking things. He upends the entire living room, turning over book cases, couches, end tables; nothing is safe. He throws a bottle of brandy across the room and only stops when it hits the stereo and, somehow, manages to turn it on, the volume turned up aggressively loud.

_One moment imprinted inside my mind...  
Could there be more to this love or will it be left behind?_

_'Cause if it's all I can take,  
I'll remember it all, remember it all._..

And he remembers that night at prom, when they danced and talked about moving on and, for just a moment, looking at her, he knew where his life was headed. A path had been open then and he hadn't taken it. He's faced with that same decision now, only he won't waste it.

The lyrics are still echoing in his head when he climbs the stairs and finds a shirt, yanking his shoes on, before he leaves his house and runs the whole way to Elena's building. He buzzes her, his finger pushing heavily on the number over her name until she unlocks the door with her phone. He climbs the stairs in record time before banging on the door loudly, desperation clawing at him.

"Do you have any idea how _early _it is?" she asks, her hair still mussed from sleeping. She blinks a few times at him. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

He licks his lips, panting, and shakes his head. "Do you even love me?"

Her brow furrows. "What?"

He stares at her seriously. "Do you even _love _me?"

She blinks a few times, getting progressively more awake, and shakes her head. "Where is this coming from?"

He swallows tightly and drags a hand down his mouth. "Elena, I... I can't do this anymore."

"Wh-What?"

"I don't _want _to." He raises his eyes to meet hers. "This, you and me, we've been doing this too long. I..." He shakes his head. "We haven't been in love for a long time now and I... I don't want to keep holding on to you when I shouldn't."

"What are you talking about?" Her eyes cloud with tears as her lips tremble. "_Stefan..._"

He stops her hand as she reaches for him and steps back. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we should be together..."

"Wait. Just— Just _wait_, can we... Can we talk about this?"

He shakes his head resolutely. "There's nothing to talk about." Stepping back, he sticks his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and a flash of sincere sadness hits him. He may not be _in love_ with her, but he does love her. She still matters to him and he still wants her to be happy. He just knows it won't be with him. Regardless, Elena was and is a huge part of his life, she always be, she just won't be beside him through it.

He turns and walks away, because he really doesn't know what else to say. He can't get into the details of why this is happening, not without hurting her more and turning Caroline into a villain in Elena's eyes. And he knows that they're not perfect, what they did was wrong, it was hurtful and they shouldn't have done it behind Elena's back. But there was no going back. There was no changing it. Maybe it's selfish, but he _wouldn't_ change it.

He leaves Elena's and he starts for Caroline's. He just has to convince her to stay. She doesn't need to be with him, she just needs to be here. They can go back to being friends if that's what she wants, but eventually, he hopes he can convince her that they're worth it. That they can be, and _should_ be, more. He's smiling when he gets to her house. He's relieved; a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. It's not just that he and Caroline might have a chance. He and Elena should have ended a long time ago and now that it was truly over, he was sincerely thankful for it.

But his relief is short-lived.

Caroline's not in her room and, he hadn't noticed it before but, her car isn't parked outside. Some of her clothes are falling from their hangers, her dresser drawers are pulled out, and he knows... It hits him hard, the realization knocking the breath from him. She _left_. He drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at it, and his eyes fall shut as his strength leaves him.

She's gone.

And he knows, she's not coming back.

The pain reverberates through him, regret drowning him until he chokes on it. But then her phone is buzzing on her dresser, demanding attention. It's Elena, begging Caroline to call her, telling her that she and Stefan broke up.

Caroline is gone and she doesn't even know that Stefan has finally ended things with Elena, that they can be together for real, that he wants things to be better… That he _loves_ her.

He's hit suddenly with a wave of stubborn determination.

Caroline may be gone, but he can find her…

He _will _find her.

[**End**.]


End file.
